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jareckiworld · 7 months

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Sam Chivers — Steam-Oxygene (New Scientist, illustration, 2010)

#Sam Chivers #british art #cosmology #New Scientist

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debutart · 8 months

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St. Mortiz Tennis School poster by Sam Chivers.

#st moritz #tennis #tennis school #poster #illustration #sam chivers #women #digital

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sandmandaddy69 · 10 months

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Sam Chivers

#Sam Chivers

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unknown-dimension · 10 months

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#sam chivers

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cosmonautroger · 5 months

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Sam Chivers

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magicdreamspoetry · 8 months

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Sam Chivers — Black Hole (New Scientist, illustration, 2013)

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ulaulaman · 7 months

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Broken relativity by Sam Chivers

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alexsfictionaddiction · 5 days

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Review: The Magician Next Door by Rachel Chivers Khoo

It has been a while since I read a whimsical middle grade, so I was really looking forward to getting into this one. I had no idea what to expect other than magic and adventure and that's pretty much exactly what it is.

When a flying house lands in Callie's back garden late one night, she thinks she's seeing things at first. However, it turns out that the house belongs to a magician named Winnifred has lost her Wanderdust, the substance that enables her magic to work. It's down to Callie and her next door neighbour Sam to find the Wanderdust and save Winnifred's house and possessions from the creatures trying to steal it.

Alice McKinley's artwork is really cute and I would have loved to had the benefit of seeing it in colour beyond the cover. It's simplistic yet full of little details, which really suits the writing style.

I thought the magic system was interesting but the heavy reliance on having a supply of Wanderdust diminished Winnifred's powers. She didn't really have any magic without it, which meant that it was potentially accessible to anyone. So, Winnifred wasn't a magical character at all really -she just knew how to wield Wanderdust.

Callie has recently moved from London to the remote Northern Irish community that the story is set in and she is really struggling with homesickness. The idea of home becomes a big theme as the story goes on and drives the moving, reflective scenes.

The idea of home being people rather than places is something that really resonates with me and it was lovely to see Callie realise that at such a young age. Hopefully it will stay with the young readers that pick this book up too.

The Magician Next Door is a fun, quick, magical read. I would have liked the characters to have been developed more and the Irish influence to have been more prominent. I also wasn't really sure about the reveal behind Callie's mother's link to the town and found that quite farfetched. However, I do think it's a lovely story for children aged 8-11 to read as a starter magic story.

#the magician next door #rachel chivers khoo #middle grade #fantasy #book review #review #books #bookworm

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elfabianaco · 7 months

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(vía El romanticismo retro de Sam Chivers. Buena ilustración británica | Experimenta)

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cavenewstimes · 9 months

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Print Edition 49

Issue 49 of the Nautilus print edition combines some of the best content from our March and April 2023 online issues. It includes contributions from emergency physician and writer Clayton Dalton, science journalist Rachel E. Gross, astrophysicist Sean Raymond, author Danna Staaf, and more. This issue also features a new illustration by Sam Chivers. Get the Nautilus newsletter Cutting-edge…

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darklydone · 1 year

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TWO SWORDS

TWO SWORDS The queue was twenty deep. A long snaking line of sight seers visiting London to see the sights. Big Ben. Tick. Houses of Parliament. Tick. Red buses. Tick. Decked out for summer they stood in the drizzle, animated figures, excited and a little apprehensive.

Long ago the wax had been melted down. Replaced by interactive figures from history. Automatons proudly on display. Ready to answer any questions. Lincoln regaled the audiences. “Four score and seven.” Whilst Churchill smoked huge cigars and never surrendered.

Heroes and villains posed as cameras flashed. Children running excited, zig zag patterns in between the varied displays. Genghis Khan roared and waved his sword to squeals of delight as Chaplin walked his funny walk, back and forth, cane swinging.

The dungeons screams were harrowing. An age limit, only allowed those older, hardy souls, to experience a more realistic vision of mankind’s bloody cruelty. Iron maidens pierced bodies. Racks broke bones. And burning flesh from hot irons mixed with the authentic smells of fear and pain.

6 o’clock. The guards began to gather the stragglers and point them towards the exits. School parties one behind another. Late comers flustered and tutting. One old lady thought Aristotle was the reincarnation of her grandfather. A small offering of olives was left lovingly everyday.

Closing time.

Torquemada in brown sack cloth, a rope for a belt, enters next to Marie Antoinette in leathers. The night shift swapping with the day. Neon lit, pools of darkness loitering in the long echoing corridors. Idols from the silver screen smoulder next to the homicidal ‘pin-ups’of earths most hated despots and dictators.

At the side door beneath a frilled awning stood Neanderthal Bill and Gort, visor flashing with irritation. One, very tall in polished chrome, the other hunched over in an animal skin loin cloth. Club in hand.

SALUBRIOUS, was a venue unlike any other. The eclectic tastes of its patrons started with electric chairs and there crackling colander head gear, before entering a world of mummification and d-day re-enactment, as the virtual met the robotic in terrifying visions so real that medical teams were kept on stand by through out the night.

Mr Briars was a school teacher. Monday to Friday. But on the weekends his teaching became a little esoteric. Salome and Mata Hari call me Hori. Giggled. As in mortar board and gown, hands flexing a bamboo cane he began his lesson.

Esther. Dental hygiene assistant. Dressed in latex screamed as the Thing from the black lagoon slapped her with hands like a frogs slimy flipper. Scales rough against her skin as it tore her fifties petticoats and dress before it threw on the bonnet of the red Corvette to the sound of Johnny be good.

Janet nee Jane, hung tangled in the vines high in the jungle canopy as Tarzan and Cheetah played rock paper scissors for the pleasure of going first.

Nefertiti pushed him back, naked into a writhing bath of milk and coral banded water serpents. There venom releasing a raging hormonal aphrodisiac into his blood system. Sargent Roy Chivers growled mesmerised as she stalked forward in a diaphanous gown. Slowly sinking, deeper and deeper, first her feet, then her knees, hips, breasts, until only the beads in her hair and her eyes outlined in kohl remained. Then they too sank beneath the surface. He groaned.

4 o’clock. Still dark. Patrons begin spilling onto the streets, in groups or alone. An ambulance, siren off, lights still flashing, brings an unwanted realism into there already fading fantasies.

Sam caught the early bus. Long coat over high boots. Reading a metro and drinking an espresso from a paper cup. Make-up smudged. Mascara tearful. She smiled. Wondering why none of the punters questioned how advanced robots would have to be to perform as they did. Snakes were one thing, humans another.

She’d bought another packet of plasters. It helped ease the chafing.

#Two Swords (play on words)#Fantasy #Sex droids #Short short story

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jareckiworld · 8 months

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